


Connections

by xxMad_Donaxx



Series: Emotions [4]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-15 23:05:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxMad_Donaxx/pseuds/xxMad_Donaxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varania needs to know that Fenris didn't get the better end of the bargin. </p>
<p>This is likely going to be dark and angsty but Fenris wanted to tell his story first. Anders will have little or no part in this one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

He will seek you out. That’s what First Enchanter Anders had told her. It had taken him a week to seek her out after her harrowing, what an unpleasant experience that was. That conversation with her brother, who she couldn’t seem to stop thinking of as Leto, was also an unpleasant experience. It had degenerated into a screaming match frighteningly quickly.

Varania wandered the halls of the Gallows almost two weeks after that argument, unable to think of much else. She hadn’t wanted him to join that stupid tournament. If he had lost Leto would have died. That was the likely outcome but he’d won instead. No one was more surprised than she had been but she’d lost him anyway. He’d used the boon from Danarius to free herself and their mother. Freedom was nothing to be desired. Varania didn’t like to think of the things she had had to do to support them.

She felt Leto had gotten the better end of that bargain and had told him so. He had been horrified that he’d fought for the markings and after that angry statement had stormed off. Leto lived here in the Gallows, with the First Enchanter. Since he had stormed off she hadn’t seen him once. It hadn’t been her intention to chase him away but it seems that’s exactly what she’d done.

Brother Sebastian had recommended that she talk to him when she had confessed. After all those days alone with only her thoughts she had realized why Leto had been so angry. She wanted to know why he’d doomed her to this boring existence. Her reading lessons, begun by Danarius, were being continued and her skills as a tailor were being put to use but other than that she had nothing to do.

Now that she seems to have chased away the only two people in the building that she might have had some sort of relationship with it was lonely as well as boring. Varania had tried to speak with First Enchanter Anders about Leto again but he’d seemed much angrier and much less sympathetic the second time around. Besides, he’d told her the same thing through gritted teeth.

Most of the other mages were polite but none seemed really interested in her. The Templars were somewhat friendly but there were strict rules about that sort of thing. It had left her alone with her thoughts. They were growing morbid…she almost wished Leto had ripped her heart out.

Varania wandered the halls, thinking these morose thoughts, wondering what she had done wrong. The hallway she was in was deserted and the last person she expected to see came around the corner at the end. She stopped walking, half in surprise and half in fear at the dark look on his face. His long legs quickly put him in front of her and she held her breath, waiting to see what he would do.

“You’re wrong,” he said quietly. “I did not end up better off.”

“You didn’t have to steal or sell yourself just to eat,” she said bitterly, unable to stop the words. “Everything you needed was provided.”

Leto shook his head. “The cost was too high. Come with me and I’ll tell you exactly why you’re wrong.”


	2. Chapter 2

Varania followed him silently to a room, his room he shared with the First Enchanter she thought. It was only a little bigger than her room but big enough to hold a desk and a table in addition to the bed and the wardrobe. The room was spare, a simple quilt on the bed, parchment and quill on the desk but very few items anywhere in the room that would give insight into its occupants. There was only a little blue pillow that sat near the headboard of the bed.

Most of the other mage’s rooms, always seen from the hallway, were filled with little things that they had managed to collect and keep over the years. Her own room looked a bit like this one but she hadn’t been here in the Gallows or Kirkwall for very long. Varania knew that Leto and his lover had been in Kirkwall long enough to gather at least a few things but she saw only the blue pillow.

Leto sat at the table and after a moment Varania sat as well. A pitcher of water stood in the middle with two glasses but he ignored them, instead pulling a medallion of some sort from under the armor Danarius had made especially for him. She stayed silent and watched, curious…angry…frightened.

He rubbed the surface of the medallion and looked up at her, his eyes sad, haunted and angry. His voice was steady when he spoke. “I have very little memory of you or our mother. An…accident…a few years ago allowed me to remember some things. My first clear memories begin after the ritual that burned the markings into my flesh.”

***

Agony, there is nothing from before. There is only the excruciating, burning pain all over his body. He didn’t know who he was or even where he was. This should bother him but it doesn’t. All he can think about is the fire that throbs all over him. It was dark, a few candles burning somewhere if he cared to open his eyes. Perhaps if he could sleep…but the pain is too great and he can’t.

Eventually a voice breaks through the haze in his mind. It is soft, insistent and he should know who belongs to this voice. He searches briefly through his mind for memories but finds only darkness. The voice is calling a name, telling him gently to open his eyes, and he wonders if the name is his. There is a cooling wave of…something. But he still burns and the voice calls the name again.

“Fenris, open your eyes.”

It’s still soft, gentle but insistent. He opens his eyes because he knows he must, following the insistent command. He doesn’t remember but he knows his place. The owner of the voice is close and almost fills his vision. He focuses on the man’s slightly pointed ear instead of his eyes, a blue so pale they look almost white.

Another cooling wave flows through the inferno that his body has become and this time he knows it’s magic. He knows the man filling his vision didn’t cast the spell, he doesn’t know how, but the healing spell came from the other side of the stone slab he lies on.

“You’ve done very well my pet,” the man filling his vision said. “And you are as beautiful as I’d hoped.” The man pauses and he feels fingers at his cheek, brushing at tears he didn’t know he shed. “I know it hurts Fenris but we must get you upstairs.”

“Thank you Master,” he said voice low and hoarse. Fenris wondered, if he’d done well, why he had been rewarded with such pain. Master was pleased, however.

There was sudden light and noise as a door opened. Master smiled down at him and said, “Sleep now my pet.”

Master waved his hand and he could no longer keep his eyes open. The pain faded as he sank down into unconsciousness, eternally grateful for the respite from the burning agony he was engulfed in.

When he woke next, there was sunlight warming his skin. There was less pain. Instead of being completely on fire there were lines of heat that ran all over his body. Fenris could feel these lines from his chin to his feet, circling in some places and straight in others. Sometimes there were clustered spots of pain. Without opening his eyes he rolled onto his side, hoping to lessen the throbbing lines of pain along his back, bottom and legs. Fenris whimpered as the lines along his side and arm flared, white-hot and agonizing, but was glad for the relief along his back and bottom.

“Myra,” Master barked.

Fenris felt the cool healing sweep through him, and it helped but he still hurt. He tried to remember what he had done…what had been done to him. There was no memory before the pain but he knew he was a slave…and his Master was in the room.

He rolled again, onto his chest and stomach but held the whimper inside as the pain flared. Pressing his palms to the floor, he couldn’t prevent the gasp that escaped as his hands burned excruciatingly. He pushed himself up to his knees as quickly as he could and finally opened his eyes. Ignoring his surroundings, he turned carefully until he saw what he thought was his Master. Fenris focused on the hem of the robes and knelt painfully in front of them. His hands hovered just above his bare thighs, palms up.

He tried to stay focused on the hem of the robes but his eyes wandered to the bluish-white markings that covered every bit of his skin he could see. The burning pain along his arms followed the tattoos and he understood why his hands had hurt so badly when he’d pushed himself up. Along his fingers and across his palms, the separate lines merged together at his wrist and flowed apart again on his forearm.

“Do you know me Fenris?” Master asked. His voice was the same gentle soft one he remembered from the dark room and yet the same voice that had spoken the other name so harshly. Was he Master’s favorite?

“You are my Master,” he said. His voice still sounded hoarse and he couldn’t quite keep the question out of it. “I am sorry Master. I seem to have forgotten my duties.”

“That’s quite all right Fenris,” Master said. Fenris felt his fingers running through his hair, from the crown to the nape of his neck. “You’re only duty right now will be recovering from the ritual.”

“Yes Master,” he said quietly.

Fenris wondered if it was this ritual that had put the painful white markings on him. He didn’t think they had been there before. But he couldn’t even remember his name before Master had spoken it. The markings that were surely on his shins burned as he knelt, the others throbbed and tingled. But the hand still running through his hair was soothing.


	3. Chapter 3

Fenris was unaware that time passed. Without any duties to worry about he tried to sleep, it was the only way to escape the pain. He found that simple need beyond his capabilities. The swirling lines of pain were everywhere, back, arms, legs…even sitting gave him no reprieve. No matter how he lay on his pallet at the foot of his Master’s bed, the markings burned. Most of his time was spent in a pain filled doze. His Master made sure Fenris got the sleep he needed and he was grateful but it made time fluid and unpredictable. He’d wake when the stars shown through the gauzy curtains to the balcony or he woke to the sounds of the people hurrying through the city not far away.

There were precious few places that didn’t burn in agony when touched, the soles of his feet, most of his face and his genitals. His hands were the most frustrating. Fenris could touch nothing without excruciating pain. As a result he could do little for himself. Myra, the healer who always seemed to be present, usually fed him a broth. Sometimes his Master sat on the floor with him and held the cup of awful tasting liquid for him.

Gradually the pain became manageable and Fenris was able to stay aware for longer periods. He was not allowed out of the room but Fenris began with simple things. Walking the length of the room until he tired, touching the floor and flexing his fingers until he could hold the cup of broth himself. Master seemed pleased with his progress and Fenris worked harder.

His food slowly expanded, chunks of fish in the broth, porridge in the mornings, as he recovered. Fenris began sleeping regularly on his own, mostly on his side, but he usually woke at some point during the night to roll to his other side. The longer he lay in the same spot the worse the pain became.

When Fenris was more aware of things around him, he realized that his Master spent a good portion of his afternoons with him. At first he simply watched. As Fenris gained in strength and was able to handle the constant aching of the markings better he began giving orders. Pick this up, walk around the bed twenty times, crawl across the room and back and he followed each order no matter how much it hurt.

After a particularly grueling afternoon, Master allowed him a nap. He was woken by Myra, her voice soft but insistent. “Master requires your presence soon,” she said. “I am to help you prepare.”

An hour was spent in the adjoining bathing chamber. She washed his hair thoroughly and even though her scrubbing on his skin was gentle it was still a torment. With his skin throbbing she cast a healing spell on him, this helped very little, and then she dried his hair with magic. He was given a simple robe to wear. It was very much like the garment she wore. The fabric was sheer, hanging off his shoulders to his knees and sleeveless. It rubbed the markings on his shoulders and everywhere else the slightly scratchy material touched his skin.

Fenris stood shifting uncomfortably at the foot of Master’s bed while he waited for instruction. Myra had gone to inform their Master that he was ready. He was curious about the rest of the manor. All he could remember was this room and the dark room he’d first woke in. His memory was still mostly blank. Unable to even remember his Master’s name or the city they lived in, only that they were in Tevinter. Fenris could remember nothing about where he might have come from or if he had family somewhere. He remembered the important things, his Master and how to be a good slave, the rest was unimportant.

When Master opened the door, Fenris sank to his knees and waited. Master was quietly circling him, ensuring that he was satisfied with Fenris’ appearance. Stopping behind him Master said, “Do you remember how to behave my pet?”

“Yes Master,” answered Fenris evenly.

“Come,” he said moving quickly to the door.

Fenris stood and followed a pace behind him, keeping his eyes on Master’s back. The robes he wore were fancier than what he’d seen previously. A deep blue with sparklingly silver winding through it in patterns that looked much like the markings that now covered Fenris’ skin. This could only mean that Master was either hosting an event or going to one. He could only wonder why Master had chosen Fenris to accompany him. Perhaps he _was_ Master’s favorite.

As Fenris followed him through lavishly decorated hallways and opulent rooms, he noticed that most of Master’s other slaves were elves. Myra, who had stayed in Master’s bedroom, seemed to be one of very few human slaves. They stopped and bowed while Master passed by, all dressed in the same diaphanous robes that Fenris wore. Besides guards that dotted the hallways, the other slaves were the only people he saw.

They came to a grand dining hall and Master walked through it slowly. Slaves bustled about, preparing place settings, putting finishing touches on decorations, all of them bowing or kneeling when Master passed by them. Master inspected everything as he made his way to the head of the table, praising what he liked and cuffing a few slaves who didn’t move quickly enough.

Behind the chair where Master would sit, there was a raised platform. It was high enough that all who sat at the table would be able to see what would be placed on it. Fenris quietly followed him to that platform, stopping when Master turned.

“You will stand quietly on the platform through supper,” Master commanded. “When we retire to the ballroom you will stay at my side.”

“Yes Master,” Fenris said.

“Quickly Fenris,” said Master as he moved to the chair at the head of the table. “My guests will be arriving shortly.”

Fenris climbed onto the platform wondering why he was to be the centerpiece of this event. Perhaps it was the markings that Master had rewarded him with. For the first time since he’d woken in that dark underground room, Fenris wondered just what they were. He stood atop the platform, hands at his sides, locking his gaze on a large painting of his Master on the far wall. Fenris would be told if Master wished it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-detailed dub/con in this chapter.

Fenris could only hear murmurs from the crowed table below him. He stood on the platform for at least an hour, probably more like two, staying as still as he could. Every small shift caused the slightly scratchy material of the robe to rub on his markings. The true pain didn’t begin until after. Master had specified his side and Fenris stayed there, slightly behind so he wouldn’t be seen as equal.

Master wandered through the ballroom and Fenris wandered with him. Wine flowed freely, glasses kept full by silent slaves who went through the crowd of Magisters. In the center of the room body slaves displayed themselves invitingly. Magisters used some of them on the various couches or chairs placed strategically around the room while they spoke and drank with their companions. There were also adjoining rooms for those who desired a more private setting.

He watched passively as he stayed by his Master. Where ever Master went Fenris was discussed. Some of the Magisters wanted to touch the markings but thankfully Master wouldn’t allow it. It was through these conversations that Fenris learned the markings were pure lyrium. Fenris could feel them throbbing and burning all over him and he thought it was no wonder they hurt so much.

There was a king’s ransom of the deadly poison sewn into his skin. It was not his place to question his Master, but Fenris couldn’t help wondering why. Master had said it was a reward but he couldn’t remember what he’d done to deserve it. He felt a surge of pride for his Master though, that he had kept Fenris from dying spoke of great knowledge and skill. Fenris was now positive that he was Master’s favorite.

Master was smug and the others jealous. Fenris was his silent shadow, obediently following despite the growing pain the robes were causing. He kept his face carefully neutral, not allowing the pain or the pride he felt for Master from showing. It was at least two hours that Master spent walking among his guests before he sat. Fenris knelt beside his chair, grateful for a pause in the constant rubbing on his markings even though pain flared brightly on his knees and shins.

Magisters still came up and spoke with his Master. Fenris listened carefully as he kept his eyes on their feet. It was more of the same jealousy and some posturing from a few of the weaker mages. This went on for some time as well, the pain in his shoulders lessening as the pain in his shins grew, until a female Magister approached.

Her voice was vaguely familiar but Fenris couldn’t remember her. He looked up, unnoticed through the fringe of hair that hung down over his eyes. There was a female slave with her, walking quietly behind and to the side. A thin veil hid most of her features but her large sapphire eyes and long ears tapered to a delicate point marked her as elven.

Her deeply tanned skin was almost completely bare. Fine golden chains formed a net over her full breasts with a single strand going around her sides and two more extending up connecting to a golden collar she wore. The collar was adorned with jewels the color of her eyes, another thin golden chain led from the collar and was hooked onto a matching bracelet around the wrist of the Magister. There were fine golden chains that followed the bones of her hips holding an opaque blue material that hung down to her ankles. The material started well below her navel and didn’t extend very far over her thighs. To Fenris she looked like a favorite body slave.

“Have you given thought to my offer Danarius?” the Magister said.

“I have,” Master said smoothly. “Is this the slave you wish to breed?”

“It is,” she said haughtily. “I’m sure you’ll find her more than acceptable.”

Master hummed thoughtfully and Fenris was sure he was inspecting the slave. “Yes,” he said finally. “Yes they should produce an exquisitely beautiful child. Are my terms satisfactory?”

“They are,” the Magister said. “Payment will be rendered when Laurel has conceived.”

“We have a deal,” Master said standing. “Right this way my dear, Fenris has behaved exceptionally well tonight and I’m sure he won’t disappoint.”

***

“What’s so bad about being bred?” Varania scoffed. “It happens all the time.”

“Danarius knew I was still in pain from the ritual,” Leto said calmly. “A reward for good behavior, phaugh! I believe it was a test, to see how loyal I was. They clipped that bracelet to my wrist and I was forced to lie on my back with those robes still rubbing me raw. She was very well trained, probably the only way she managed to get me to perform properly.”

“So it hurt a little,” said Varania sitting back and crossing her arms in annoyance. “A trained body slave is a much better bed partner than some fat unwashed mercenary lowlife that left bruises wherever he touched me.”

Leto sat back and shook his head. “Maybe it would have been different if I had had another month. She set me on _fire_ ,” he hissed passionately. “Things she was trained to do, that on anyone else would have had them howling, turned me into a mewling mess from pain but she didn’t understand that and kept doing it.”

“If it hurt that bad then how _did_ she get you to _perform properly_ ,” Varania said trying to curb her temper. To her it sounded more like the reward Danarius had claimed. Duels had been fought over excellent body slaves and if that little tart was half as good as Leto claimed then it _would_ have been a reward. “It sounds to me like you’re just complaining.”

“Did you hear nothing I said?” Leto asked, his temper finally rising. “Imagine standing inside a blacksmith’s fire. The bellows making it hotter, burning and burning, no relief no end, you stand there and burn. I endured this once a day for nearly a month until they were sure my seed had taken root. There was nothing pleasurable about that experience. She made my body react to the pleasure she had been trained to give without ever knowing once that what she was doing also hurt.”

Varania shuddered at the image he had left her with. “I guess that wouldn’t feel very good,” she said softly.

“He watched every time,” Leto said quietly. “I was forced to do it his way. I couldn’t find a way that didn’t hurt, couldn’t even tell her that the pathetic whimpers that escaped me weren’t from pleasure. Danarius always let me sleep on the bed for a few hours after. He was the one engineering my torment and I was grateful he let me sleep off the worst of the pain.”

A light knock on the door caught their attention. Varania turned to see First Enchanter Anders poking his head in the room. “Supper bell just rang,” he said softly as he opened the door and stepped inside. “Will you be joining us Varania?”

His voice and expression were considerate but his eyes were flashing and angry. Varania shook her head as she stood. “Not today. Thank you for asking though.”

“Come back tomorrow,” Leto commanded. “There is more you need to hear.”

She turned briefly and his brows were furrowed, lips curved into a tiny frown and his green eyes were hard and demanding. Varania nodded and turned back to the door, the First Enchanter stepping out into the hall to let her through. Leto’s voice followed her as she hurried down the hallway.

“How long were you listening?” he asked, voice laced with amusement.

“About fifteen minutes,” she heard the First Enchanter reply sounding almost embarrassed.

Varania left them behind, walking quickly to the dining hall, wondering if she even wanted to hear the rest of his tale.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon typical violence...such as ripping a man's heart from his chest.

The next morning, Varania found herself at Leto’s room. The door closed in front of her and she wondered if she could bring herself to knock on it. Breakfast was long over with, First Enchanter Anders had gone in the direction of his office and she had followed her brother here. She honestly didn’t know what to think of his story so far. It still didn’t sound as bad as her trials had been but Leto had said there was more she needed to hear.

Varania and Leto had been close before the tournament. After, Leto had disappeared and she and their mother had been thrown out on the streets of Minrathous. They were penniless, no home, no marketable skills and targets for any bandit that wandered across them. It was by far the lowest time in her life, made infinitely worse when their mother had died of a sudden illness shortly after they were freed.

It was her curiosity that demanded she knock on the door. How could Leto have possibly had it worse? He had food, shelter and safety when she had none. Following a few orders was a rather small price to pay she thought. Even the pain of the ritual had become non-existent if his relationship were anything to go by. The First Enchanter was not shy with his affections.

His low voice sounded on the other side of the door and she tentatively opened it. Leto was sitting where he had been yesterday, the amulet clasped loosely in one hand. He motioned her in with his other and tucked the amulet into his tunic. Varania shut the door behind her and sat opposite him. The intensity of his gaze was a bit frightening.

“I’m glad you came back,” he said the corners of his mouth quirking up slightly.

“So what else is there that I need to hear?” she asked.

“My training began shortly after,” he began.

***

Fenris stood in the courtyard the soldiers of the villa used to train. In front of him stood two veterans, armed and completely armored, while all he had was a very large sword. Master had taken his measurements and had commissioned a special set of armor for him but it wasn’t going to be ready for another couple of weeks. Until it arrived, Fenris trained without armor and without the loose, scratchy robes that inevitably set his skin to throbbing. He would much rather face an entire hoard of darkspawn naked than embarrass his Master by collapsing in the middle of these sessions from pain caused by a flimsy robe.

The general ache of the markings had diminished greatly. Touch still aggravated them but he was hoping that would also diminish eventually. His hands ached constantly from necessary use but it wasn’t nearly as bad as those robes scratching and rubbing where ever it touched him.

When Master had shown him the sword, telling him that it was his, Fenris had immediately knew how to use it. He had been sparring with the soldiers for a week now and despite his distinct disadvantage, Fenris usually won. This had pleased Master immensely and he finally had an idea of what his duties had been, or what they would be when Master thought he was ready.

The lyrium markings were still a mystery to him. Besides making him look pleasing to his Master, they didn’t seem to do anything. Master had explained to him this morning that the markings would give him great power…he just had to use them. How he was supposed to use them, he still didn’t know. He seemed confident that Fenris would figure it out.

The two soldiers rushed him and Fenris quickly dodged out of the way, swinging his sword around as he did. It was only a matter of minutes before both of the soldiers were too stunned to fight. Instead of slaves appearing to haul the incapacitated soldiers off of the field, three more heavily armed and armored soldiers appeared with two more at their heels.

Fenris spared a glance at his Master, sitting in the shade, being fanned by a pair of elves with a wine goblet raised to his lips. Master didn’t appear to be unhappy with this sudden change but Fenris was unsure if he could defeat this many without killing a few of them. Blows were traded and he decided that maybe Master wanted to see what he was truly capable of. His blade became deadly and three had fallen before the first two joined the fray again.

“Use the markings Fenris,” Master commanded calmly.

Another soldier had fallen to his blade and Fenris still didn’t know how he was supposed to actually use them.

“Use the markings Fenris,” Master repeated beginning to sound annoyed.

He tried but nothing happened. “Master, I’m not sure how,” Fenris said over the sounds of steel clashing. He knew he might be punished for talking out of turn but that was preferable than ignoring a direct command, even if he wasn’t quite sure how to follow it.

“Halt!” Master shouted. The courtyard fell still and silent very quickly. “You three line up over there,” Master said coolly. The soldiers hurried to comply and Fenris stayed where he was, sword held at the ready in a slight crouch. “Perhaps this will help you figure it out.”

His Master hadn’t even finished speaking when Fenris fell to his knees in shocked agony. His sword clattered to the ground as magic ran along the lyrium markings, leaving burning and painful stinging in its wake.

“On your feet my pet,” Master ordered. Fenris struggled to comply with the magic still racing along the markings. Only when he had finally stood, hunched over in pain, did Master relent. “Now activate the markings.”

With his skin still burning and prickling, he thought hard trying everything he could to make the lyrium burned into him react somehow. When nothing happened, the painful magic began again. Master punished him longer than last time but Fenris managed to remain on his feet. This time he became aware of something when the magic stopped. It had likely been there all along. Before his Master could order him for the fourth time to use them, the markings glowed, a soft muted blue.

“Remarkable,” Master said. “Pick up your sword.”

Fenris bent and found that his hand passed through it. Fearing more punishment, he thought fiercely, I will pick up my sword. He tried again and found that his hand closed over the handle of his sword like it always had.

“You,” Master said pointing to one of the three remaining soldiers. “Over here now.” The soldier hurried to stand in front of Fenris. Master circled them, the soldier clearly terrified of a naked slave. “Kill him without using your blade Fenris.”

He thought for a moment. If his hand could pass through his sword, wouldn’t it be likely that it could pass through other things as well? He reached out and his hand passed into the soldier’s chest. There was a gasp and a scream but the soldier remained rooted to the ground. It was the oddest thing, feeling the man’s insides pass through his hand. Fenris concentrated again as he felt around in the soldier’s chest, his hand coming to rest around the man’s heart. Fenris thought of holding it firmly in his hand and quickly pulled his arm away. The soldier breathed one more gurgling breath and collapsed, his heart now held in Fenris’ hand.

“Very good my pet,” Master praised him. “If you work hard the next few weeks I might forgive your slow obedience. That will be all for today. You will have Myra scrub you clean in my private bath and then you will wait for me, standing by the foot of my bed.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More violence and a tiny bit of body desecration.

Fenris stood there at the foot of the bed and practiced for hours as Master watched. He practiced activating the markings until he could do it without a second thought. His supper was light and Master ate his in the bedroom, making sure his orders were followed. That night Master clipped a collar around his neck, black leather inscribed with runes. It was loose enough that Fenris could breathe properly but tight enough for him to know it was there.

“Try again now,” Master ordered.

The pain was instantaneous when his markings lit. It was the same pain that Master had given him earlier when he didn’t follow instructions. He stood there quietly, his brands glowing softly as magic burned along them. Fenris didn’t dare make them go out and he tried his hardest not to react to the pain in any way. Finally Master ordered him to stop.

“Very good my pet,” he cooed.

That night, as he lay on his pallet at the foot of Master’s bed, Fenris knew how much he had displeased him. The day after his first night with the slave he was bred with, Master had taken his pleasure from Fenris. He had been proud to please his Master, glad that he was favored. Master had been careful not to touch the brands and Fenris was honored that Master would think of his comfort. Master did not use him this night. He lay awake, not daring to move as he listened to another please Master instead. He knew it was another punishment for his disobedience and he was determined to get back in his Master’s good graces.

His training continued the next day. Instead of soldiers he was pitted against beasts. Great cats that had been shipped in from Seheron and bears shipped in from somewhere to the south that had had their claws removed. Fenris learned to incorporate his new abilities quickly. The collar was removed each morning and replaced with another, very similar one. It was still black leather but this one lacked the runes that would bring punishment.

The other slaves gave him a wide berth along with the soldiers. They were all frightened of him, Fenris was a little frightened of himself. None of these new abilities were natural after all. Master was the only person he saw in the villa who wasn’t afraid.

For two weeks Fenris trained, fighting with the sword and refining his new talents. This morning had been no different. After he was clean Master allowed him to eat lunch in the main dining hall with him. He knelt on the floor beside his Master’s chair eating the morsels he was given and watching the guests closely. Fenris had finally been deemed ready to resume part of his duties. Master required him to be his personal bodyguard. When the finished armor arrived in a few days he would be allowed to carry his sword. Until then he would have to rely on the markings.

This luncheon was fairly important. A highly ranked member of the council had been called in to settle a dispute between Master and one of his rivals. It was unlikely that the other Magister would try anything in the presence of the council member but Fenris had been ordered to watch. He listened to their conversation and watched the other two mages closely, always careful to avoid eye contact. The dispute was settled in Master’s favor and his rival was not happy.

For the following days Fenris was constantly at his Master’s side. He was wary for danger during the day and slept lightly at night. This night Fenris couldn’t sleep. Master had taken another to his bed again. It was only a small comfort that there had been no other men since he had displeased him. He lay awake on his pallet long after she had been sent away listening to his Master’s contented snoring and wishing it had been him. Sometimes Fenris had been allowed to sleep in his bed afterwards. The bed was much softer than his pallet and caused less pain from the markings.

His keen ears picked up a strange noise. Fenris listened carefully and determined the scrabbling sound was coming from outside the balcony. Quietly he rose, glanced at his Master who slept peacefully on and moved to stand on one side of the open doorway leading to the balcony. He waited patiently and silently.

A dagger tip parted the thin curtains and he prepared himself for the pain he knew the collar would cause. An arm followed the dagger and soon enough the assassin was inside the room. Dressed for subterfuge, the intruder looked around but it was already too late. Snarling, he activated the markings and plunged his hand into the assassin.

A feminine voice cried out in pain as Fenris clutched her heart in his hand, dropping the dagger to the floor. Master sat upright at the sudden sound. With his other hand he willed himself to grasp her shoulder and shoved her roughly back out onto the balcony. Her heart in his hand, he pushed her limp body over the edge and let the organ follow her down.

Fenris turned letting the markings die out and fell to his knees in front of his Master. Holding his bloody hand close to his body and away from Master’s night robes that now swirled around him, they aggravated the already burning markings from the collar. Master rested a hand on his head as he looked over the balcony.

“An assassin,” he said mildly. “Very well done my pet. Come.”

The rest of that night was spent standing behind and to the side of Master’s chair in his favorite study while soldiers and slaves alike scrambled to figure out how the intruder had gotten in and how she had managed to make it to the center of the villa where Master slept. Her path through the grounds was easy to trace, a trail of dead soldiers and slaves left in her wake. The high wall that surrounded the villa had been breached thanks to a tall tree that had been allowed to grow over it.

When morning came her body was hung outside the gates, her heart stuffed into her slack jaws. It was a warning to whoever had bought her service and to anyone else who might entertain a similar notion. Fenris knew it wouldn’t take long for news to spread of how she had died. He wondered if all of Minrathous would now be frightened of him. Perhaps that was for the best. If they were scared of him they would think twice before harming his Master.

Fenris was allowed a nap after breakfast before his training would begin for the day. He fell into a light doze, hoping he had finally pleased his Master enough to forgive his disobedience. 


End file.
